


The Pet Shop Boys

by vanillalime



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dogs, Dogs, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multiple Canon Characters - Freeform, Multiple Secondary Characters - Freeform, Other, references to off-screen violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 06:29:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6893815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillalime/pseuds/vanillalime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Oz Animal Shelter receives a new dog who makes an impression. (A Disney-fied version of Oz, inspired by "Lady and the Tramp.")</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pet Shop Boys

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my LiveJournal in June 2014. Written for the Oz Prompt-A-Thon 2014.

Late one afternoon, Len Lopresti, the dumbest dogcatcher in the history of the city, got lucky and actually caught a dog. He pulled his van up behind the Oz Animal Shelter and knocked on its back door. A sprite, elderly woman opened the door and smiled at him in surprise.  
  
“Sorry to bother you, Sis,” said Lopresti. “But the dog pound is completely full, and I was hoping you could take this mutt off my hands.”  
  
Marie glanced down at a medium-sized mongrel of uncertain pedigree, held tight by Lopresti with a leash. She frowned in doubt, but her expression quickly changed to one of astonishment when she thought she saw the dog smile and wink at her. Marie rubbed her eyes and knew it was time for a nap.  
  
“I’ve been trying to catch this tramp for months,” continued Lopresti. “He’s probably mated with half the bitches running loose in the city. He’s a real lady-killer, this one.”  
  
“Well, generally, our organization only tries to place purebreds, but I do have several empty cages at the moment,” said Marie in consideration. “And here at Oz, we certainly want to do everything we can to help control the stray pet population. Is he dangerous?”  
  
“Only in his own mind,” Lopresti said with a scowl, tugging slightly on the leash. “To be honest, he can be quite friendly, just a challenge to catch.”  
  
“Alrighty, then,” said Marie, taking the leash. “Maybe we can find a good home for him.”  
  
“Good-bye, Killer!" said Lopresti with a wave. “And you better behave yourself here,” he warned. “It would be a real shame if they had to neuter you!”  
  
Marie heard a low growl as Lopresti laughed and walked back toward his van. She looked at the dog in concern.  
  
“You’re not going to give me any trouble, are you, Killer?” she asked him tentatively.  
  
The dog ceased growling, looked at Marie, and wagged its tail.  
  
“Good boy!” she said. “Now, let’s show you to your new friends and find you a bed.”

*~*~*~*~*

The newly-christened Killer strutted down the row of cages containing dogs available for adoption. The manner in which he walked showed off the powerful muscles of his lean body, accentuated by his short black fur. He made eye contact with every dog as he walked by, sizing them up and silently daring them to do the same. Outwardly, he exhibited a pronounced level of self-confidence that compensated for his lack of pedigree, putting him on equal footing with any dog.  
  
Marie placed him in an empty cage at the end of the aisle, gave him a dog biscuit, and left.  
  
A poodle with long, black curly fur, lying in the cage next to him, spoke first.  
  
“Hey, man. Welcome to the Oz Animal Shelter. Home, sweet home.”  
  
Killer looked at him and rolled his eyes. “What’s the deal here?” he asked the poodle.  
  
“Whataya think? We’re all homeless dogs, hoping to get adopted into generous, loving families. We’re all dreamin’ of the full fairy tale, with the happily ever after.”  
  
“Well, what’s the problem? From what I could see, you guys are all fancy purebreds. People are usually payin' through the nose to own dogs like you.”  
  
The poodle sighed. “We might seem like normal dogs, but we're not. Oz is a small, private foster home for dogs who are damaged or difficult in some way. We all require extra care or attention.”  
  
“Oh, yeah?” replied Killer in interest. “Like what?”  
  
“Well, see those two Irish setters down at the end?” the poodle nodded with his nose. “They’re brothers, and Ryan is really sharp. But Cyril, the shaggy one, he must’ve been dropped on his head as a puppy. He’s just not all there. But they’re inseparable, and Ryan is extremely protective of his brother. You want one, ya gotta take the other.”  
  
The poodle’s gaze traveled down the length of the aisle, and he described the other inhabitants of Oz to Killer:  
  
“Then you got Omar, that little terrier in the cage across from them. Looks like he’s asleep at the moment, thank God. You’ll figure out his deal soon enough. Let's just say, you'll be glad he’s down at the other end.  
  
“The poor sucker stuck next to him is Kareem, the big, proud-looking husky. He was born and bred to compete in dog-sled racing. But one day Kareem decided he’d had enough. He sat down and refused to pull his sled, and nothing would change his mind. He talks all the time about how demeaning the practice was. He preaches that dogs are actually equal to humans and should be treated as such. He won’t do a thing he’s told, unless it's what he wants to do.”  
  
At this point, the poodle turned to look at Killer. “He’s a bit on the self-righteous side,” he added with a roll of his eyes. Killer barked a soft laugh.  
  
The poodle lowered his voice as he continued with his narration. “Those ugly pitbulls across from Kareem are named Vern and James. They’re nasty, vicious dogs, and I advise you not to have anything to do with them if you can help it. I overheard some talk at one point about them being put down, but Marie thinks they can be rehabilitated. She really wants to give them one more chance.”  
  
Killer shook his head. The poodle quietly muttered, “Yeah, her optimism is misguided, if you ask me.”  
  
The poodle looked at the cage across from his own and nodded. “And that basset hound there has a digging problem. And I don’t mean a few holes here and there, but real tunnels. Remember the city-wide black-out from earlier this spring?”  
  
Killer nodded his response.  
  
“That was the result of one of ol’ Agamemnon’s digs. He’s been here ever since.”  
  
“What about you?” Killer asked the poodle. “You seem normal enough.”  
  
The poodle smiled. He stood up and turned away from Killer. Only then did Killer see that the dog was missing one of his hind legs.  
  
The poodle expertly hop-walked closer to Killer. “I misjudged the time it took to cross the street when chasing a rabbit. I was hit by a police car, of all things. But I can still get around pretty well, believe it or not. My name’s Augustus. What’s your’s?”  
  
“I guess it’s Killer,” he replied with a sigh. “The dogcatcher decided to call me that. This afternoon, he finally nabbed me."  
  
“Man, that’s tough. I mean, everyone else here is domesticated and looking for someone else to take care of them. It’s going to be hard for you to adjust after having all that freedom.”  
  
Killer lay down on the floor of his cage and put his head between his paws. He didn’t say anything, but the truth of the matter was that he had let Lopresti catch him. He was tired of running around, begging for food, looking for safe places to sleep, and dealing with the clinging bitches who wanted more than a one-night stand. He’d been thinking lately that it would be nice to be part of a family for a change.  
  
Suddenly, Marie appeared with a cart and called out, “Dinnertime!”  
  
As quick as a gunshot, a high-pierced yapping sound emanated from down the aisle.  
  
“Did you hear that? It’s dinnertime! I wonder what we’re having? I hope its beef-flavored. I love beef. Do you like beef, Kareem? I like it best with gravy. But only if the gravy is warm. I don’t like cold gravy. What about you, Kareem? Do you like gravy? But I’m so hungry, I’d eat anything. Let me know if you can’t eat all of your dinner, Kareem. Hahahahahaha. That’s a joke, because you always eat everything.”  
  
“Oh my God,” groaned Killer. “Is that constant yapping coming from Omar?”  
  
“Yep,” replied Augustus. "He's like that all the time. You learn to tune it out after a while."  
  
“Poor Kareem.”  
  
“Yep,” replied Augustus with a snicker.  
  
Marie made her way down to Killer’s cage, handing him a nice big bowl of dog food. As he began to eat, Killer was surprised to see Marie gently place her last bowl in the cage across from him, which he had thought was empty.  
  
A figure slowly emerged from the dark recesses at the back of the cage. A beautiful golden cocker spaniel slunk toward the bowl of food. The dog kept its nose close to the floor, dragging its long floppy ears, covered with soft golden-red curls, along the floor of the cage. The food disappeared in a matter of seconds, followed closely by the dog itself, as it retreated to the back of the cage from which it had appeared.  
  
Killer stood there and watched, transfixed, his own meal forgotten. He had never seen any creature look so beautiful, yet, at the same time, so sad.  
  
“Augustus,” he whispered. “Who's in that cage across from me?”  
  
Augustus looked up from his bowl with a sad expression of his own. “Oh, I forgot. That was Toby. He hasn’t been here very long.”  
  
“What’s wrong with Toby?”  
  
“Toby was abused by his previous owner. He pretty much keeps to himself.”  
  
Killer was horrified. “How could anyone hurt anything so beautiful?” he asked, more to himself than Augustus. “People can be so sick.”  
  
Augustus looked thoughtful. “Well, yes, but not just humans,” he replied. “A couple of days after Toby arrived, we were all out in the yard for free time. Marie usually supervises us, but she got called away for a few minutes. Vern and James cornered Toby. Vern attacked him while James stood guard. Vern clawed him up pretty bad trying to hump the hell out of him. Toby got a big cut on his hind end that needed a bunch of stitches. He’s still recuperating.”  
  
Killer felt an immediate rush of rage toward the pitbulls. “Why would they do that? Why would Vern even want to hump Toby? He’s no bitch.”  
  
Augustus shrugged. “I guess Vern was confused. Or, maybe, he just wanted to show that he could.”  
  
Killer lay back down, but couldn’t rest. He was too upset. He’d been “confused” himself a few times before, but never to the point where he’d hurt another dog. One thing was for sure, no one else was going to hurt poor Toby again. He’d see to that.

*~*~*~*~*

Early the next morning, Marie arrived and walked down the row of dogs.  
  
“Guess what, boys—it’s Saturday! And you know what that means—Adoption Day!” she proclaimed. She began to open the cages. “Everyone go out and get some exercise before breakfast! If you’re lucky, it’ll be the last time you’re out in our yard.”  
  
Marie opened the door to Toby’s cage. Killer watched closely as she examined Toby.  
  
“Oh, that cut has healed nicely,” Marie declared. “There’ll be a big scar, but your fur will cover it up when it grows back.” She gently patted Toby’s head. “Toby, I think you’re ready for some outdoor activity. Just take it easy, okay, boy?”  
  
Killer heard a whimper and watched as Marie cajoled Toby outside. Soon, everyone was out enjoying the big, grassy exercise yard: racing, playing, or, in Agamemnon’s case, digging. Killer noticed that even Kareem was running around, although it was possible that he was just trying to put as much distance between himself and Omar as possible.  
  
The exception was Toby, who sat still in a corner of the yard, looking completely terrified. Killer decided to walk over to Toby and introduce himself. Halfway there, the phone rang from inside the shelter, and Marie left to answer it. In the blink of an eye, Vern and James were in Toby’s space instead.  
  
“Feelin’ better, Sweetpea?” Vern asked Toby, who was now trembling with fear. “Maybe you need another scar to match the one I already gave you,” he threatened.  
  
Hearing Vern bully Toby ignited a flame inside Killer. He flew over to Toby and stood in front of him, cutting off both Vern and James. “Leave him alone!” he snapped.  
  
Vern looked at Killer in surprise, and then snarled, “Mind your own business, mongrel. Your kind shouldn’t even be allowed here in Oz.”  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Killer saw James assume an attack position and tensed.  
  
“Hurting innocent dogs is everyone’s business,” spat Killer. “You’ve done enough harm. Leave.”  
  
“Yeah? Who’s gonna make me?” Vern taunted.  
  
A voice behind Vern declared, “Maybe we all will.”  
  
Vern, James, and Killer all turned to see that Ryan and his brother had both approached the confrontation. Standing behind Ryan and Cyril was a second circle made up of the remaining dogs. Even old Agamemnon was taking a stand.  
  
“If you don’t leave Toby alone,” Ryan continued, “we’ll all do something to bring Marie running. Maybe then she'll finally get a clue, and you'n James will be headed to death row where you belong, instead of somebody’s home.”  
  
Vern, obviously considering his options, glared at Ryan. Finally, he muttered, “This bitch isn’t worth it. The mutt can have her.” Vern broke through their ranks and headed to the other end of the yard, closely followed by James.  
  
“Thanks, guys,” mumbled Toby.  
  
“No problem,” Ryan answered. “We should have done that the first time.”  
  
The dogs broke up and went back to their activities just as Marie returned to the yard, but Killer stayed close to Toby.  
  
Toby looked directly at Killer with his big, sad eyes, and said, "Thanks to you, especially. Who knows what they would have done.”  
  
Killer felt a tightness in his chest. He leaned closer to Toby and said, “Let’s make a deal. I’ll have your back, if you’ll have mine.”  
  
Killer saw Toby smile for the first time and thought his chest was going to burst open.  
  
“Deal,” Toby promised.

*~*~*~*~*

That day turned into one of the shelter’s most successful Adoption Days.  
  
First, a friendly man named Murphy came in looking for a couple of good hunting dogs. Marie introduced him to Ryan and Cyril and told him that, traditionally, Irish setters were great for hunting. Murphy and Ryan took to each other right away, while Cyril stood still and simply watched.  
  
Marie then warned Murphy of Cyril’s learning disabilities. She described Cyril’s loyalty and his willingness to follow his brother, but explained that his handling would nevertheless require extra patience and supervision.  
  
Murphy mumbled something about "my area of expertise" and proceeded to observe Cyril interacting with Ryan. After carefully assessing the situation, he said, “Seems to me that Cyril is smarter than half the people I deal with at work.”  
  
As if on cue, one of Murphy's co-workers wandered into Oz just as Murphy left with Ryan and Cyril. The sad-looking man's name was McManus, and he was full of tales of woe about his bad relationships. Having just been dumped by his latest girlfriend, he had decided that he was giving up on women, but he still wanted some companionship. He needed someone to talk with, someone who would respond to him without ultimately rejecting him.  
  
Marie’s eyes widened as McManus explained his needs, and she was more than happy to introduce him to Omar. “Cute little Omar here loves conversation,” she explained over the continuous yapping sounds. “You’ll never feel alone when he’s around!”  
  
There was much rejoicing in the shelter as the other dogs watched McManus leave, cradling Omar in his arms. And just when they thought things couldn’t get better….  
  
Two young, street-wise men walked in and told Marie they were looking for a couple of good guard dogs to protect their supplies for their private business. Marie directed the young men to Vern and James, who immediately began snapping and barking at the sight of them.  
  
Marie, looking slightly concerned, commented that Vern and James were usually better behaved.  
  
One of the men reassured Marie that that kind of aggressive behavior was just what they were looking for, and Marie reluctantly left to assemble the adoption papers.  
  
When she was out of earshot, the other man turned to the first and said, “I don’t know, Kenny—”  
  
“Bricks!”  
  
“I don’t know, Bricks, it looks like they’re more likely to attack us than to go after Morales and his gang.”  
  
“Well, Poet, if that’s a problem, we’ll just have to make sure they're chained up good and tight whenever they're around us. They’ll learn to respect us and do what we tell them whether they like it or not.”  
  
After that, Vern and James stopped barking and limited their menacing demeanors to low growls.  
  
So, in one day, Oz's population had been cut in half, raising the hopes of the remaining dogs that their own adoptions were inevitable.  
  
Killer, however, realized that he now had mixed feelings about that, as he gazed across the aisle to watch Toby silently lick his paw with his long tongue.

*~*~*~*~*

The days in Oz went by quickly and quietly now that Vern and James were gone. Gradually, Toby came out of his self-imposed shell. He and Killer became fast friends, talking to one another from their cages as best they could and playing together during free time. Toby was a good teacher and showed Killer the many ways one could deactivate a squeak-toy, involving complicated moves that Killer didn't know were possible. Killer, in turn, showed Toby how physical play could be fun instead of frightening, letting Toby knock him over and gently wrestling together on the ground.  
  
Then there were the times when Killer got wrapped up in helping Agamemnon with his latest dig, or watching Augustus’s latest physical feat, only to realize that Toby was off talking with Kareem. Amazingly, Toby actually seemed interested in listening to Kareem’s self-proclaimed words of wisdom about the natural power of canines.  
  
_Maybe a little too interested_ , thought Killer.  
  
Killer tried to reassure himself by noting that anything that helped build up Toby’s self-confidence was surely for the best. Nevertheless, he wanted to do something special for Toby to show him that no one cared for him like he did. Finally, one night, he got his chance.  
  
Marie, who was getting a little absent-minded lately, had forgotten to latch Killer’s cage. After all the other dogs had fallen asleep, he let himself out. He walked over to Toby’s cage and woke him up.  
  
“You want an adventure?” he asked with a mischievous smile.  
  
“I don’t know,” Toby responded blearily in hesitation. “Is it going to be dangerous? Will we get in trouble?”  
  
Killer pretended to be hurt. “Aw, Toby, don’t you trust me?”  
  
Toby smiled in his sweet, shy way. “Only with my life.”  
  
Killer nudged the door to Toby’s cage open. “Well, come on, then.”  
  
Killer led Toby out to the exercise yard and walked over to the back corner where a large branch was propped against the fence. Killer grabbed hold of the branch with his teeth and pulled it away, revealing a very large hole.  
  
“You pulled me out of bed to show me Agamemnon’s latest hole?” Toby asked in confusion.  
  
“This ain't just a hole, Toby,” grinned Killer. “This is a tunnel.”  
  
“A tunnel? You mean it leads outside Oz?”  
  
“Yep. Agamemnon’s been working on it for a while. I’ve been helping him with it whenever you’ve been busy talkin’ to Kareem. We finished it today.”  
  
"Where does it go?"  
  
"Just over to that cluster of trees. But from there, you can go anywhere. Whataya say I give you a tour of city?"  
  
Toby wagged his tail and pushed Killer toward the hole. "You first."  
  
So, Killer disappeared down the hole, and he could feel the heat from Toby's breath against his hind end as Toby blindly followed him. Killer knew that Toby was just as excited as he was. They quickly emerged out the other side.  
  
Killer turned to Toby. "Try to keep up," he said with a wink.  
  
Toby returned the look with a saucy grin of his own, and replied, "Try to lose me."  
  
_No chance of that_ , thought Killer.  
  
They ran through woods, fields, streets, and parking lots. Killer showed Toby the school playground where he used to romp with children during their recess. They chased pigeons in the city park where Killer had enjoyed numerous hook-ups (stories of which he decided to keep to himself). They raced through a maze of alleys and backstreets until they arrived at the stretch of the city that made up its nightlife.  
  
When they paused to collect their breath, Killer panted, “I’m hungry. I know the perfect place for a late-night snack. The chef there is a real dog-lover who adores me.”  
  
So they trotted down a passageway that led to the back of a Cuban restaurant. Killer scratched at the back door. A woman opened it up, saw Killer, and yelled behind her shoulder, “Hey, Miguel, your friend is back!”  
  
A man came to the door and smiled at the sight of Killer. “Hey, boy! I’ve been wondering what happened to you!”  
  
Killer barked and wagged his tail and stepped aside to reveal Toby sitting behind him. Miguel’s smile widened. “Oh, I see you’ve found yourself a friend! And an adorable one at that. I’ll get something special for both of you.”  
  
Miguel disappeared back inside for a few minutes before returning to the door. He handed each dog a hambone, dripping with scraps of meat. After several days of Marie's dry dog food out of a bag, Killer considered it to be the equivalent of a gourmet meal.  
  
He and Toby lay down together in the dim light of the alley and contentedly chewed away. They finally had the perfect opportunity to talk privately, really  _talk_ , just the two of them. It was Killer who monopolized the conversation, however, telling Toby all about his life, his goals, his dreams. And Toby appeared enthralled by it all. He listened intently to Killer’s stories, laughed at his jokes, asked questions in all the right places. Toby made Killer feel important and good about himself, which hadn't been the case for a long time.  
  
Killer tried to reciprocate in kind, asking as delicately as he could about Toby’s life before Oz. But Toby just mumbled something about “misunderstandings” and “not meeting expectations,” and he looked so sad about it that Killer decided to drop the subject.  
  
Eventually, the two dogs made their way back to Oz, stumbling as quietly as they could back into their cages. Tomorrow was another Adoption Day at the shelter, and, in theory, they needed to get some sleep so as to look their best. But Killer no longer cared if a family adopted him. As long as Toby was in Oz with him, he had all the family he wanted.

*~*~*~*~*

Oz's first visitor the next morning entered the shelter under unusual circumstances. Sally was an investigative reporter for the local TV station who was doing a story on the city-wide black-out from earlier that year. Sally had heard excuses from city officials that the whole catastrophe was due to the crazy actions of some dog with an obsessive digging problem. She wanted to see this dog in action for herself.  
  
Marie took Agamemnon out to the exercise yard to meet Sally. Agamemnon took one look at her and froze. He was completely bedazzled by Sally's charm and beauty and had no interest in demonstrating his digging abilities. The more Sally prompted him, the more fascinated he became with her. Agamemnon had finally found an obsession more appealing than digging.  
  
When it became clear that Agamemnon had no desire whatsoever to dig in the big yard, Sally exclaimed, "Why, there is nothing wrong with this lovable dog! The poor thing is just being used as a scapegoat!"  
  
So, Sally decided to adopt Agamemnon as part of her effort to expose the city's officials as liars. Agamemnon was thrilled with idea of living with Sally, and Sally was thrilled with the idea of uncovering a Peabody Award-winning story.  
  
Next, a man in a wheelchair rolled himself into Oz. Dave Brass had been hurt in a work-related incident, and doctors had told him that he would never be able to walk without a cane. His rehabilitation had been slow and painful, and, lately, he had been suffering from depression. His therapist had suggested that a pet might provide crucial affection and comfort that would help him keep his head on straight.  
  
Marie listened to Brass's story and processed his needs. She introduced him to Augustus and showed him the many tricks Augustus could do. After that, she had Augustus run toward Brass, and it wasn't until then that he realized Augustus was missing a leg.  
  
Brass choked back tears. "Why, if this fella can learn to run again, then I can, too," he declared.  
  
Not long after Brass had left with Augustus, an older, matronly woman walked in with two small children.  
  
“These are my grandchildren,” the woman explained to Marie in a hushed tone. “They recently lost their parents. I was thinking a family pet might help ease their pain.”  
  
To Killer’s surprise, the older child—a blond-haired boy—walked right up to his cage. He gave Killer a self-conscious smile that was at odds with the mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes. Killer sensed that he was looking at a human copy of himself and felt an immediate, natural connection to the boy.  
  
The boy held out his hand for Killer to smell, and he detected grass, dirt, sweat, and, most of all,  _fun_. Killer poked his nose into boy’s hand, encouraging him, and the boy stroked and scratched the top of his head with delight. Killer relished this simple gesture of affection before suddenly remembering Toby. He snapped out of his reverie and looked beyond the boy toward Toby’s cage, hoping to give him reassurance.  
  
Instead, Killer’s heart dropped to his stomach. Toby wasn’t in his cage. Marie had let him out, and he was being held in the lap of the little blond girl who had accompanied the boy. She was petting Toby and hugging him and kissing him and telling her grandmother how much she already loved him and couldn’t wait to take him home.  
  
The grandmother was wiping away tears as she watched the girl. It looked like Marie was already making the necessary arrangements.  
  
"Please come over here, Gary," the woman said. "Let Holly introduce you to the new member of our family."  
  
Killer was in a state of panic. He saw the boy look back at him with a crestfallen expression before walking to the little girl. Killer began barking, and he thought he heard Toby bark back, but there were so many people around and so much chatter and confusion that he couldn't be sure.  
  
Then, before he knew it, they were gone. His Toby had departed from Oz to start a new life, and Killer had been left behind.

*~*~*~*~*

Killer was despondent as the rest of the day dragged by. The only dogs left at Oz were himself and Kareem. Although Kareem was nice enough, his self-righteous attitude tended to grate on Killer’s every nerve. Killer dreaded the idea of spending his time in Oz listening to Kareem and his sermons for days on end.  
  
Nevertheless, Killer tried to make nice with him. “It looks like it’s just you and me tonight,” he mentioned while eating dinner. “Maybe next time will be our lucky day.”  
  
Kareem snorted. “Lucky? I disagree. I do not want to be adopted. I want to stay here in Oz so that I can spread the word of canine power to other homeless dogs. If someone tried to adopt me, I would refuse to go.”  
  
Kareem then launched into one of his lectures. Killer put his paws over his ears and did his best to block him out.

*~*~*~*~*

After an uneasy sleep, Killer woke up still sad and depressed. He tried to decide what to do. He no longer felt like staying in Oz without Toby, waiting and hoping for some family to choose him, especially when he would be competing with pedigreed dogs.  
  
He thought about Agamemnon’s tunnel. Maybe he should escape and try to find Toby. Maybe he should just go back to his old lifestyle. Or, maybe, he should head down to the railroad tracks and sit on them and wait for a well-timed train to put him out of his misery.  
  
Marie arrived with his breakfast. Killer sighed and turned away from it.  
  
“What’s wrong, Killer?” she asked. “Is it Toby? You miss him, don’t you?”  
  
Killer looked at her, slightly surprised. Vern and James aside, Marie was pretty perceptive for a human.  
  
“Maybe I have someone who can lift your spirits,” she said. Marie left and came back holding the leash for the fattest bulldog Killer had ever seen in his life.  
  
“I’d like you to meet Bonnie, our latest addition to Oz,” Marie said to Killer. She lowered her voice slightly. “Bonnie has a thyroid problem. We need to help her lose some weight. Maybe you could exercise with her out in the yard!”  
  
Marie then looked at Killer with a stern expression. “But I’ll have you know that Bonnie has been spayed, so don’t even go there.”  
  
Killer turned away again. He had no interest in doing anything with Bonnie. All he wanted was Toby.  
  
A knock at the shelter’s front door surprised everyone. Oz wasn’t supposed to be open to the public that day. Marie left to go answer it.  
  
Next, a jumble of voices was all Killer could hear. They got louder as they came closer, then, all of a sudden, there was a bark mixed in. A bark that sounded like Toby’s!  
  
And then Toby was there, standing in front of Killer’s cage, together with the woman and children from yesterday.  
  
“Gary loves Toby, but he really connected with this other dog,” the woman was saying. “I had no idea how he felt yesterday until we got home. He was so upset! And I thought, there’s no reason why we can’t have two dogs.”  
  
Marie opened Killer’s cage. He had barely stepped out of it when Gary and Toby collided into each other, trying to be the first to reach him. They all fell down together in one happy cluster of arms and legs, barking and laughing.  
  
“Oh, this is perfect!” Marie cried. “Toby and Killer are best buddies. Killer will fit right in.”  
  
The woman looked at Marie, her expression suddenly one of concern. “Killer? His name is ‘Killer’? Is he dangerous?”  
  
"Oh, no," laughed Marie as she disentangled Gary and the dogs from each other. “He may act tough on the outside, but he's a big softy underneath. 'Killer' is just a nickname that stuck."  
  
"Hmm, maybe we could change it to something else," the woman said. "Something similar, though, so that he'll still respond to it."  
  
"How about 'Krusty'?" suggested Gary, giving his new best friend a hug.  
  
His grandmother made a face. "That's not much better," she said.  
  
"How about 'Chris'?" asked Holly.  
  
Everyone looked at each other, and they all nodded.  
  
So, Chris and Toby left Oz with their new family, headed for their new home where they would start a new life together. On the way, they stopped at a pet store to buy a dog bed for Chris. They put the bed in Gary’s room, just as they had placed the one for Toby in Holly’s room.  
  
Every night Gary would go to sleep watching Chris nestled at the foot of his bed, while Holly would do the same with Toby. But, without fail, Gary and Holly would wake up the next morning to find both dogs gone from their beds.  
  
Instead, Chris and Toby would be curled up together in another room, their own family within a family, living happily ever after.

*~*~* THE END *~*~*

  
  
Thanks to LiveJournal's awesome haru776 for creating this lovely picture!

 


End file.
